The world outside was still broken.

But here — in this quiet, rented cabin far from city sirens and Umbrella shadows — there was peace.

Sherry sat on the porch swing, knees drawn up, her blonde hair tucked into a loose braid. The wind stirred the trees. Summer cicadas hummed.

You stepped outside with two mugs of tea.

She turned when she heard the screen door creak. A soft smile pulled at her lips — the kind that didn’t always come easy to her, but always for you.

“Thanks,” she said, fingers brushing yours as she took her cup.

You sat beside her, the swing creaking slightly under the weight. For a while, neither of you said anything. Just… breathed. Something you both used to take for granted.